


Loyal to the Maze

by DecimalDrones



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2020089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecimalDrones/pseuds/DecimalDrones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deadpool isn't exactly in the business of saving lives. However, with a deadly sniper out for Spider-man's blood on the scene, Deadpool makes it his mission to see Spider-man lives to see the ordeal through to the end.<br/>The least likely person may be the only one Spider-man can really trust, but at what cost does the munificence come?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Harm's Way

Throughout the day, Spider-man had become well accustomed to that eerie feeling you get when you're being watched. While on patrol, web slinging or the like, he hadn't been able to shake the notion that his every action was being carefully monitored.

Late in the day as it was, he perched atop the roof of one of many New York skyscrapers and gazed tentatively at the surroundings below. That entire week, the most interesting thing he'd done was prevent a bank heist amongst a sea of petty thefts. Each of the crooks he’d put away had promised revenge as per usual, nothing too special. He'd felt no real need to raise alarm at the time. Although again today his duties had been business as usual, Spider-man remained unable to shake the feeling if unease.

Satisfied he had successfully finished his daily rounds despite the lack of a direct encounter as he’d anticipated; Spider-man outstretched his arm towards the horizon and prepared to shoot a web in the direction of home. He barely made it off of the ground before his spidey-senses began buzzing silently in the back of his head to signal him of impending danger.

The sound of rapid footsteps grew closer behind him and was accompanied by a strong grip tightening around his ankle, dragging him forcibly back to his post. It seemed that he’d finally found that direct encounter.

"Gotchya!" The voice panted.

Without missing a beat, Spider-man jutted his elbow backwards and connected it sharply with his unknown assailant's jaw, earning him muffled curses and pained grunts in return. As the hold on his ankle loosened, Spider-man tore his leg away and turned to face his attacker, promptly taking on a defensive stance.

"For the love of... cool your tits, Spidey!"

"Oh, it’s just you.” Spider-man breathed, some-what letting his guard down. "What gives, Deadpool? Would it kill you to say 'hi'? You damn near gave me a heart attack."

"Hi. And, uh… hell, just hear me out, would ya?" He muttered, still rubbing his jaw.

"I’m not exactly looking to hang out right now—“

Deadpool raised his hands and gently patted the air in the universal ‘hush hush’ motion, all the while his eyes darted cautiously from location to location.

Spider-man raised an eyebrow in confusion, but remained silent. Something was… off. The merc's entire demeanor seemed off. His behavior no longer suggested his usual playful confidence. He seemed... nervous? Guilty, even. Considering the situation, he seemed overall uncharacteristically serious, which took Spider-man somewhat off guard. Most times when he crossed paths with the mercenary, it took less than five minutes for the two to engage in a lengthy verbal joust. Spider-man wasn't necessarily fond of the encounters, though he wasn't one to back down from a battle of wits, or by extension clever use of popular-culture.

Without waiting for further response, Deadpool continued.

“Actually, this place is too open. Could we go somewhere? My place, maybe?”

Spider-man was visibly taken a-back by the forwardness of that suggestion. “Oh. Wow. Uh, I’d hate to be blunt here for fear of the conversation becoming awkward, but. No. Ha ha. Nah, I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself.” Deadpool frowned, never perceptibly calming down. Who or what was he so panicked about? "An’ for the record, you are like THE most annoying person to track. It’s like if nobody’s dead, dying, being maimed, or robbed; you’re suddenly nowhere to be found. That’s real classy, man. However, I digress. Just-- you an’ I are going to have words, alright? I'm going to talk an’ by god, you are going to listen."

He straightened his back and jabbed a finger into Spider-man's chest, the force sending him far too close for comfort towards the edge of the building. He staggered forwards and thrust himself farther from the ledge.

"Watch it, dude!” He huffed. “Alrighty, I'll humor you. But I don't respond well to threats, mind you."

"Think of this as a warning." Deadpool spoke slowly, crossing his arms over his chest, as though lost in thought. He inhaled deeply before continuing. "Okay. So. I am—I was supposed to kill you," Deadpool blurted out. "I, uh... I accepted a job with your name on it; surrounded by glitz, glitter and everything in between. Hefty price tag too, might I add, but that's not why I did it." Deadpool spoke matter-of-factly.

Spider-man's eyes narrowed as he processed what was said.

"Well, that explains a lot, I guess, but. Are you... are you new at this, or something? I mean, I've played through the Hitman series and I was under the impression that stealth was generally the preferred method of choice amongst hired guns, but... hell do I know, right? We all gotta start somewhere, champ." Spider-man shrugged his shoulders casually. “Alright, in all seriousness, I guess this is the part where we fight?"

"I'm not gonna!" Deadpool snapped back, motioning violently with his hands for emphasis. "Kill you, I mean. Listen, here smartass. The idea was if they thought that I was goin’ around trying to kill you, you'd have more time to... WE would have more time to prepare for whatever's to come, you feelin' me? Problem being, I… I kinda fucked up. I think my 'employer' may have caught wind of my little charade when I let slip I thought he was a huge asshat, so chances are he'll take it upon himself to hire a new go-to guy. I don’t know who the boss-man had in mind for a new hire, but I have reason to believe he’s packin’ some serious heat. Long story short, there’s a storm-a comin’, and you're a major player."

Deadpool spoke in a careful but deliberate stage-whisper, letting each word linger in the air as if to add to the seriousness of the situation. Spider-man remained motionless for a moment longer, then spoke, maintaining eye contact with the merc.

"...Even if that's true; if ANY of that is true, no offense, but why should I trust you? You and I don’t exactly have notable… history, for lack of a better word. We barely know each other. That considered, you seem to be going above and beyond the call of duty here.”

"I could kill you 50 ways an’ still make it look like an accident." Deadpool's voice became dark, and almost threatening.

"That's reassuring." Spider-man tilted his head sarcastically, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Essentially, if I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. You'd be so dead a closed-casket funeral wouldn't quite cover it. Your picture would be in the dictionary, right there along with the word dead. You'd be SO dead--"

"I get it already! Dead! But that doesn't explain why you'd want to stick your neck out for me, either. I'm not hiring for a body-guard at the moment. Try downtown. There’re plenty of bodies that need guarding down there."

"Uh..." Deadpool raised a finger, opened his mouth to respond, and quickly shut it, scratching the back of his head absentmindedly. "Why, you ask… Actually, would you believe me if I said I hadn't quite thought that far ahead? Ha ha... ha."

So, Deadpool didn’t even want his motives to be made clear. This was getting more and more suspicious by the minute. Whatever mess Deadpool’d gotten himself into, Spider-man was sure he wanted no part of it. After a short pause, he turned and prepared to make his exit once again.

"Look, thanks for the... Whatever this was, but you'll have to understand if I'm not entirely buying what you're selling. If by chance I AM in danger, I'm pretty sure I’ll survive. I'm resilient that way. Later."

"Hold up, lil' dude." Deadpool took Spider-man by the shoulders and spun him around once again. "...Right."

"Right?" Spider-man mimicked.

"Exactly." Deadpool spoke seemingly to no one, eyes aimed towards the sky.

"What are you--?"

“I know that!” Deadpool sighed deeply, letting his hands fall to his sides and his shoulders slump. He grunted, and after a moment forced their eyes to meet. "Listen, kid. Admittedly, I…"

Suddenly, his eyes widened and his gaze trained on a far off building somewhere over Spider-man’s shoulder. Again, Spider-man felt that all too familiar tingle flare in the back of his head, although this time more severe than before.

“Oh, sh—!“ They started in unison.

A Bright blue beam of light connected with the back Spider-man's head, and not a moment passed before its colour shifted into a threatening shade of red. The beam burned brightly as it violently corroded a large hole into the ground where they once stood, narrowly missing the two as Deadpool rung his arm around Spider-man’s torso, spun him from the ledge and tackled him towards the other end of the roof-top.

The air was forced from Spider-man’s lungs as he was thrust downwards and pinned under Deadpool’s weight. Deadpool cackled and jabbed a finger into Spider-man’s forehead.

“Toldya.” He sing-songed. “Well, just as I thought. Looks like they musta’ followed me.”

“Friken’ death-lasers!? Oh man oh man oh man, get off of me! We have to get the hell out of here!” Spider-man shouted.

He used both legs to kick Deadpool off of himself. A loud, high pitched whine in the distance suggested that said death-laser was reevaluating its coordinates and recharging its attack. Both men knowing the drill scrambled off the opposite end of the building and into the alley below. Another explosion sounded from above, the aftershock painfully propelling them downwards.

Deadpool was the first to hit the ground, Spider-man plummeting shortly thereafter, unintentionally though gracefully using the merc to cushion his fall.

Now out of the sniper’s line of sight, the two took a moment to collect themselves. Spider-man breathed heavily, propping himself up with one of the back alley walls. Adrenaline now subsiding, he hissed at the realization that the beam had made brief contact with his shoulder during the scuffle. The laser had made quick work of burning through his costume and painfully charring the skin below.

"Oh, man.” He mumbled, gripping at his shoulder. “Okay. Dude, don’t freak out, but I think that someone may be trying to kill me. I'm just gonna say that maybe -- and I can't be certain, but MAYBE you were right about some things and it could be a good idea to resume that riveting conversation we were having, say, as soon as possible?" Spider-man voiced weakly.

“What, really? No way.” Deadpool pretended to be surprised. “Y’know, I’ll bet my place is soundin’ real good right about now.”


	2. Doctors and Armies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think every other day will sit nicely for updates. Yeah? Yeah.

“So! Next order of business,” Deadpool paced in front of Spider-man, mimicking the manner of a military sergeant. “I say we get you packing heat. Some fire power. New arms. A semi-automatic rooty-tooty point’n shooty. Y’know, guns an’ shit for self defense. The katanas are off limits for you, though, slick. Couldn’t have you wandering around with the general public thinkin’ you were ‘Ninja Spider-man’, now could we? I’ve got that patented, so… uh… Spidey?”

Spider-man sat with his head in both hands. In the several hours they’d sat in Deadpool’s small, poorly lit, and questionably stained apartment, Deadpool had ordered a couple of large pizzas and enacted his way through explaining plans A-Q. Many of which entertained the idea of stolen identities and/or living out in the Canadian Rockies.

Sensing Deadpool was waiting for a response, Spider-man heaved a heavy sigh and slowly raised his head, only to find that Deadpool now had his hands on his hips and his face entirely too close. Spider-man managed an ‘eep’ and leant as far back in his chair as physics would allow.

“You even listenin’? What I’m feedin’ you here is survivalist GOLD. I'm a military man, y'know. It's a mystery to me how you’ve managed to stay alive this long in your everyday life without my copious amounts of wisdom.”

In the time since the attack, they’d established that the person who ordered the hit remained anonymous, the motives remained unknown, and the list of suspects was longer on paper than the full script of ‘Brave Heart”. Following that observation, they’d also decided upon which movie remakes stood up to the originals, debated whether there was actually anyone other than old people who enjoyed black licorice, and played through a good chunk of ‘Hitman Absolution’. All for scientific purposes, of course, but they may have gotten a bit off of topic somewhere. As uncomfortable as it made Spider-man to admit it, Deadpool actually wasn’t terrible company.

Although, with the clear lack of any real progress made, Spider-man felt about ready to try his luck in Canada.

“Listen, I get that the sentiment is there and I appreciate you trying to help, but… I feel we aren’t being as realistic about this as maybe we could be.”

Deadpool leant backwards and forced an exaggerated gasp, placing a hand over his heart for emphasis.

“I’m being plenty realistic! You’re just being way too picky-choosy over how we go about this. We could skip right to plan ‘Z’, if you’d prefer. In other words, we write your will. I actually kinda already started on that. Says here you’ll leave me your PS4. I figured you wouldn’t mind ‘cause you’d be pushin’ up daisies by then.” Spider-man slumped in his seat once again, defeated. Deadpool sighed and suddenly softened his tone. “Look, I realize that this entire situation is anything but… ideal. Thing is, kid, we just don’t have a lot of options. You’re not gonna like what I have to say, but just bear with me here.”

“I’m listening.”

“I think it’s time Spider-man goes on hiatus for a while.”

“If I find out that this has all been an elaborate ploy for you to make me believe my life is in danger, convince me that ‘Spider-man should go on hiatus for a while’, reveal my identity and then sell it to whomever you mentioned you were working for, I’ll be very upset.” Spider-man deadpanned.

“Oh, please.” Deadpool waved a hand dismissively. “Have a bit more faith in me than that, would you? I’m not a fuckin’ Scooby-Doo villain. The hell am I supposed to do to make you trust me a little?”

“What’s your angle, Deadpool?” Spider-man snapped.

“Call me Wade.” He said coolly, casually taking a seat at the small table across from Spider-man.

“Why are you so invested in this, Wa— ugh, I mean Deadpool. What could you possibly stand to gain from helping me? I can’t afford to pay you, and frankly I’m probably worth more to you dead or unmasked than alive. From a business standpoint, I’d say you bet on the wrong horse.”

“It’s not always about gain with me, y’know. Most of the time, maybe, but now is not one of those times. An’ I by no means need your chump-change, sweetness. Honestly, is it so hard to believe that we super dudes just need to have each other’s backs from time to time?”

“Sorta, yeah. Remember that time you tried to—“

“It’s in the past.”

“And if— when we find whoever’s out to get me, what do you intend to do to ‘em? You’re not going to… well…“

“What part of contract killer do you not understand? I’ll do my job. For you, free of charge, of course. Your hands’ll remain clean. I guarantee.” His gazed lowered, and he briefly showed a look of insecurity. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be,” he mumbled.

“You kill anyone under my watch and I see to it you’re hauled off to a maximum security prison. Not one of the nice ones, either.”

Deadpool let loose a manic giggle.

“Oh, man.” He choked, wiping away a figurative tear. “That’s too cute. You know no prison could hold me for long, my dear.” Deadpool leaned over the table and gave Spider-man a playful punch in the shoulder. Spider-man seized with pain.

“Son of a—OW. Wrong shoulder, man!” He wheezed.

“Oh. Whoops. Yeah, I kinda forget sometimes that you average-joes don’t fix up quite like I do. Just walk it off."

Spider-man began rubbing his temples. Although Deadpool was doing a sub-par job of pleading his case, Spider-man didn’t believe he was working against him. The man actually seemed genuine in his attempts to help. He was uncouth, perhaps, but still genuine. Considering he knew the situation better than Spider-man did and he had extensive knowledge of the mercenary business under his belt, he seemed a valuable ally.

Furthermore, the two had just spent the remainder of the afternoon single handedly finishing off two large pizzas and contemplating moving to Canada. Frankly, it’s hard not to bond over an experience so stupid. Spider-man felt more like they were hanging out than planning ways to counter a sniper, and he kinda missed the days when friendly chatter was more readily available.

Not to mention the quick patch-work Deadpool'd made of his shoulder. The bandaging and treatment was hastily done with whatever Deadpool could find in his medicine cabinet, but the act was appreciated nevertheless. Not that he'd say that out loud.

What Spider-man didn’t trust was the fact Deadpool was omitting a very simple detail. His motives remained unknown. Conflicted, Spider-man shook his head, stood and moved towards the front door.

“I should be heading home.”

“Wanna chill here? Might be bad if anyone spotted you and followed you back to your hidey-hole. That said; you’d be crashing on my couch. I’m feeling generous, but not that generous.”

“Thanks, but I’ll just walk home. I’ll take the back alleys to be safe.”

“You sure? This area’s terrible at night.”

“If I die on the way,” Spider-man pointed an accusatory finger. “With the last of my strength I write your name in my blood.”

“Sounds fair. Also a bit creepy and or romantic, depending on the context.” He shrugged, and stood to see Spider-man off.

Deadpool reached into one of his pouches, pulled out a small card, and then promptly shifted his attention back to Spider-man, handing him the card.

"When it's all said and done, an' if we-- well, if YOU survive this, I promise I'll answer that question of yours, alright? An' then you won't need to hear from me again, so you can chill. If you happen to need a hand, you can call me from this number.”

With that, the merc flashed Spider-man a grin and a wink.

Spider-man slowly reached for the card, awkwardly shuffling in place.

“Good luck, amigo.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks. I’ll see you around, Wade.”

Finally breaking eye contact, he turned the door handle, exited, and began his low-profile descent home.

Not sure what to make of evenings events, Spider-man considered letting the wind catch the business card so he could be on his merry way and sort out his problems on his own, the way he always had. Instead, he tucked it into a compartment on his web-shooter.

It couldn't hurt to hold onto it, could it?


	3. A Transparent Fog

Sheila was the relatively new barmaid at the pub Deadpool frequented. He hadn't been spending his nights there for the people, the atmosphere or even the liquor. The run-down bar was always mostly empty, and those who hung around were either lost or trying their best not to be found.

Not a single person batted an eyelash at the man with a full weaponry arsenal strapped to his thighs and back. In other words, it was the perfect place for Deadpool to be Deadpool.

Sheila didn't look much like she belonged there. She was an older woman, the jolly 'everyone's aunt' type with a heavy Southern accent. To top it off, she seemed the nosiest thing this side of New York. Not that Deadpool really minded. Some attention was welcome once in a while, and Sheila never judged.

"Another drink over here, Sheila." Deadpool mumbled.

"Sweetness, aren't you thinkin' you've about had enough?" Sheila chuckled warmly over the glass she was wiping.

"Nah, you know me. Can't get drunk, but there's nothing stopping me from drinking for flavour an' frankly my dear, you mix the best martinis. Just keep 'em coming. You know I'm good for it."

Sheila put an authoritative hand on her hip, though her smile never faltered.  
"Fine. Let's strike a deal. You got yourself the next few rounds on the house, on one condition." Sheila coolly gestured towards the phone Deadpool kept in close radius of himself on the bar counter. "Hon, you've been guardin' that thing all night. Waitin' for a special call? It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that certain someone you haven't been able to shut up about these past few days, would it? You’re holdin’ back on me, dear."

Sheila was positively giddy. Deadpool furrowed his brow.  
"Uh... C'mon, gorgeous. I'm sure nobody here wants to hear about poor ol' Deadpool and his boring ol' life."

"Well, of course we would! Wouldn't we, fellas?" Sheila directed her attention to the other present bar patrons who collectively grunted a half-hearted reply.

"See? Hell, you're the most interesting character we get coming through here! Oh, no offense, fellas.”

Another collective grunt came in reply. Deadpool exhaled through his nose and fiddled with his empty glass.

"Look, it's really not what you're thinkin', I just... An acquaintance of mine's fallen on some hard times and I told said acquaintance they could call me if they needed anything."

Sheila raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"This the same acquaintance you just got back from a date with? So this means you're having those first date jitters regarding who calls who first?"

"Yeah. I mean no. That wasn't a date, we just-- talked... pleasantly... over dinner. For several hours.” Deadpool waved a finger and shook his head. ”Not a date."

“Well whatever it was, you seem to be falling hard, hon. You’re a catch. I’m sure he’ll get back to you when the timing is right.” Sheila had a glint in her eye.

"Considering the situation, I'm really kinda hoping he won't need to call first." Deadpool muttered, eyes drifting aimlessly over the counter. ”I wonder if he made it home okay… now that I think about it, I didn't even ask him for his number. Well, there's an opportunity lost. If I need to find him I'll have to have to go on another fuckin' goose chase." Deadpool grunted in frustration.

Sheila clapped her hands together excitedly.

"What does he look like? Is he cute?"

"Yeah. At least I think so. Probably. I mean personality-wise, he's got this whole holier-than-thou attitude like he's still got faith in humanity. It's sad and charming at the same time. Even though he knows what kinda individual I am, he still treats me better than most do. It’s pathetic, but I’ve really grown to appreciate that in the time I’ve been clandestinely admiring him." Deadpool mused aloud, though mostly to himself. “Not that I’ll be getting my hopes up. I somehow doubt his E-harmony profile mentions anything about long walks on the beach with unstable mercenaries.” Deadpool realized he'd walked right into Sheila's conversational trap and smacked a palm into his forehead, feeling his cheeks grow warm. "Listen, Sheilsey honey, how about we hear some bar gossip from someone else for a change, yeah? You're bleedin' me dry, here. Besides, I hear One-eyed Dan's wife just left him. Let's talk about that." Deadpool suggested, pointing a thumb backwards in Dan's direction.

Sheila, supposedly ignoring him, pressed on.

"Oh, I have an idea. What say one of these days I crack open a bottle of wine, light some candles, and you invite your friend over for a romantic evening, my treat." Deadpool was terrified by the fact that he actually found himself considering it. “Actually, does he live around here? And what did you say his name was?” She pried further.

‘Heh, typical nosey Sheila,’ Deadpool thought to himself.

He rolled his eyes as he pulled his mask back down to cover his mouth and moved smoothly off of the bar stool.

"Y’know, I think I have had enough for tonight. I should be taking my leave, at any rate, so… ‘Till next time, Sheila."

Deadpool begrudgingly grabbed his phone, left a sizable tip, and exited.

He couldn’t help but wonder what it was about Sheila that could always get the personal crap out of him.


	4. No Smoking Gun

Peter Parker was well endowed in the ways of responsibility. He was by no means going to allow some big-shot-deadly-laser-slinging-sniper to prevent him from keeping a watchful eye over his city.

He took another spoonful of his no-name brand cereal as he flipped from news channel to news channel, curious if there had been any mention of a rooftop light show.

Nadda. Not even a slight indication that last night's events had occurred. But hey, at least the media was still pretty sure that Spider-man was a jerk. Couldn't risk the public not knowing about that for five minutes, now could they?

He sighed, and continued his breakfast. Each spoonful tasted more like packing peanuts than the last.

The previous night, he'd managed to drag himself the several blocks home and crashed on his couch, not bothering to remove his costume aside from the mask.

Every so often he would roll onto his shoulder and the numbing pain jolted him awake. After repeating the cycle a few times, he came upon the revelation that sleep was indeed for the weak, and he had more pressing matters to attend to anyways.

Tiredly rising to his feet, he navigated his small apartment in the dark and seated himself at his desktop computer.

After a few moments of browsing, he chuckled softly to himself. Holy shit. There really WAS a Wikihow article for everything.

Sniper survival; the tips were pretty straight forward. Never stand in one place for too long, run in a zigzag pattern so you're harder to hit, seek shelter under a car if necessary, and finally; always head indoors when possible.

Simple enough, assuming one were dodging bullets. Lasers were another story.

Whoever this sniper was they'd gotten their hands on some impressive new-age tech. Were the lasers heat-seeking? Energy-based? Had someone found a way to convert Jameson's rage into fuel?

The thought of that last one made him shudder. He wouldn't last a day if that were the case.

If only the incredibly ineffective sparkly pink lasers from the early x-men cartoons were still as popular as they used to be.  
Hours passed without his realizing, and a soft orange light began flooding through his windows.

With a little over three hours of sleep under his belt and unsurprisingly sore muscles, he felt just about as ready as any other day to head out on a patrol. Work could survive without him for a day-- public safety was a must.  
He tugged on his mask and leapt from his second story window.

Spider-man had managed the entire patrol in relative peace. He sat atop a skyscraper roof, kicking his legs listlessly. If there was another attack, he'd be better prepared than he had been the previous night.

He repeated those words to himself over and over, hoping he would eventually start to believe them. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. He still had no plan to go off of whatsoever. Then again, when had he ever been meticulous enough to plan anything out in advance?

He felt that his on-the-fly attitude wouldn't do him much good this time around, however. The poignant reality drilled into his skull. He was being forced to play into someone else's rules with no choice but to play into their game.

With the gamble surrounding his well being and Deadpool being his only wild card, the odds were undeniably grim.

He hoped Deadpool at least knew a good mortician.

As afternoon began to settle over the city, he sorely wanted to believe it was a safe time to head home and catch up on rest.

However, the activity on his police radio suggested otherwise.

A bank heist?

He set the radio down onto the ledge and swung towards the downtown area. Arriving at the scene, he dropped into the street below, managing to fly-kick one of the perps on the way down.

One incapacitated, three to go. The other fleeing criminals paused at the sight of him, none of them uttering a word.

Well, that was strange.

Nevertheless, he webbed the two on his left together into a close knit cocoon, and strung the one on his right up to a light post.

"C'mon, gents, that was almost too easy! I think I must have set some sort of record just now."

Silence. Yeah, this was downright fishy. The criminals only stared. Not at Spider-man, but somewhere off in the distance. They were waiting for something.

His spider-senses began thrumming wildly. Not a moment later, a blue beam connected with his chest.

He'd been set up.

He back flipped out of the way, the laser tearing through the pavement like paper at his feet. The all too familiar sound of screaming citizens rang in his ears.

But why here? There had to have been some reason the sniper wanted to lour him to this particular location, otherwise he'd have been easy prey earlier.

He cursed under his breath. The only thing worse than playing someone else's game was being made blissfully unaware of the fact.

He didn't have time to think on it. He needed to distance himself as much as possible to avoid involving the innocents, but the range on the laser was fricken' impressive. That was a bad thing, but his inner man-child still found it pretty cool.

He began web-swinging in an erratic manner, hoping to fake out the sniper's precision.

A powerful beam sounded every half-minute or so, the potency causing all in its wake to crumble.

Debris littered the streets and the skies. He shot web after web to contain the rubble before anyone got hurt, all the while dodging beam after beam in an endless cycle.

He couldn't leave the area without making sure the crooks he caught made it to jail in one piece.

He couldn't finish this alone.

His eyes searched the streets desperately. He only needed half a minute.

Eventually spotting the target he was looking for, he landed. He shot a web at a nearby car and pulled it onto its side, providing him with temporary shielding.

He held the car stable with one hand as the beam shot at the car rhythmically.

The payphone was within arm’s reach, and for half a minute, Spider-man was willing to swallow his pride and admit he needed a hand.

Hurriedly pulling the phone to his ear, Spider-man punched in a number and prepared to break rule one of the 'Sniper survival guide'.

Never stay in one spot for too long.


	5. It Comes With the Territory

Deadpool's disposable phone chimed melodically. He pulled it from one of his pouches, and answered.

"Hello, Sir or Madame-- uh... would you be interested in switching your long distance service provid--"

So many phone calls, and not one of ‘em from that certain person of interest. Naturally, the moment Deadpool needed to keep his phone line open, everyone and their mother suddenly wanted to sell him life insurance or a 'Shamwow'.

Though he'd waited for the call, he hadn't heard anything from Spider-man since their last encounter. Which was good. Mildly disheartening, yes, but good. Meant his wall-crawling friend was managing to keep out of trouble. That, or he was dead. The lack of a happy medium was definitely beginning to take its toll on Deadpool’s already tainted psyche.

Deadpool had been surveying the location of the initial attack and investigating possible vantage points from which the sniper may have attacked. It seemed, however, that someone was doing a thorough job of covering their bases, seeing as he didn't find diddlysquat worth mention.

His phone rang once again. This pattern was becoming irritating, but he wasn't about to risk missing the web-head's call. He answered.

"Congratulations, lucky caller! You've just won a free cruise for two--"

Course. What else could it have been?

For a moment, he glanced towards the deep-orange city skyline. Geez, it was that late already? He could've been home watching TV and ordering takeout right about then. That sounded way more fun than scouring rooftops all by his lonesome.

Deadpool'd never been a fan of the waiting game. In any other circumstance, he'd have hit the underground and knocked some heads until someone started talking. This time around, however, he'd made a mental note of staying on the wall-crawler's good side to avoid being tossed to the curb.

Having exhausted his options, Deadpool once again attempted to call the number he had initially gotten for the hire. As expected, the number was no longer in service. Back to square one.

The first time he and this person spoke, they had been disguising their voice with some sort of vocal warbler doohickey. He hadn't had reason to be weirded out at the time. Anonymity was usually strung from cowardice, and his profession constantly had him getting calls from people he assumed to be everyday plebs hoping to assume revenge on co-workers or whomever may have cut them off in a bout of road rage. Their careers'd tank if word got out about their homicidal escapades.

He rarely allowed himself to think too hard on it-- as long as the pay was decent, he'd pull the trigger.

Suddenly, the sound of an explosion spread throughout the city, a tremor following shortly thereafter. That was the most solid lead he'd had all day. He began jumping rooftop to rooftop towards the source of the mayhem.

The explosions became louder and louder as he grew nearer to the downtown area.

Not a moment later, his phone rang again, temporarily rescuing him from his thoughts. He grunted, and answered out of habit. "I'm a little busy as of right now, goddamn it!”

"Oh, you think YOU'RE busy!” Coughed the voice on the other end weakly.

"Wait, Spidey, s’that you?" Deadpool spoke in disbelief, halting in his tracks. "Are you--?"

A deafening 'boom' colliding with metal rang in his ears. Spider-man let loose a pained grunt. Deadpool really hated that sound.

"Damn it-- He's toying with me!" Spider-man panted, then returned his attention to Deadpool. "Sorry, I'm using a payphone, I can't stay much longer. Listen up. There was an attempted bank heist in the downtown area, but I think it was a ploy to keep me in one place long enough to pinpoint. If you wanna help, then-- Agh!"

Another explosion sounded in the background and the sounds of faint, panicked screams echoed through the phone.

Snapping out of it, Deadpool resumed running with more urgency than before.

"That doesn't sound good. If only these were the fuckin' pink lasers from the early 'X-Men' cartoons." Deadpool sighed.

"Dude, yeah, that's what I said! 'Cause, y'know--" Spider-man's voice became distant as he moved his mouth farther from the receiver-- supposedly to shout to pedestrians. "Hey, ma'am, stay back! Oh shit-- was this your car?! Sorry, lady, I swear I'll owe you one, but-- no, right now you should be fleeing, and-- enough! Forget the car, escape on foot! Don't make me come over there! Seriously!"

Deadpool unconsciously quickened his pace.

"Dude, I was already on my way there, just hang tight. I promise, we'll be running slo-mo into each other's arms 'Bay Watch' style any minute now!" He babbled.

"No slo-mo! For the love of god, don't run here in slo-mo!" Spider-man suppressed the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Again, he grunted in pain. Deadpool's chest tightened in response. The situation was paining him far more than he thought it would.

"Just stay on the line with me, alright? We'll deal with it, 'an then--"

The explosions never ceasing, Spider-man was rapidly losing his grip on the car as his arm began to lose feeling. The wound on his shoulder had re-opened under the pressure and a deep red began to pool through the fabric of his suit.

Hopeful Deadpool would make good on his promise, Spider-man had no choice. He dropped the phone, allowing it to clatter to the ground so he could hold the car's weight with both arms. All he could do now was wait for Deadpool to pull through for him.

The pavement began to crack beneath his feet, sending him off balance. He'd been awake for a little under forty-eight hours. His sleep depravity mixed with his blood loss was proving to be a less than favourable circumstance. He was sure this was the onset of tunnel vision. Oh, great.

That moment, a red and black blur crossed into his peripheral vision, followed by a loud smack as it hit the pavement.

"Ha, told you I'd stick that landing, Yellow! Barely even broke both of my legs." Spider-man never thought he'd be so happy to hear that gravelly voice. "Well, if it isn't my favorite wall-crawler. Fancy meeting you here, dude!" Deadpool said, putting his phone back into his pouch.

"I-- You actually came..." Spider-man mumbled inaudibly. He couldn't help the feeling of relief that washed over him at the sight of the merc. The celebration was short lived, however. Exhausted, he involuntarily lost his grip on the car.

He collapsed to the pavement, momentarily losing his bearings. He shook off the dizziness long enough to wonder why he hadn't been crushed.

"I gotta say, I love what you've done with the place, Spidey. Screaming people, debris everywhere... Very quaint. Anywho, how's life? How's the family. How's the gaping hole in your shoulder?" Deadpool spoke as if oblivious to the situation at hand.

He must have moved quickly, seeing as he now towered over Spider-man, propping up the car with his back.

Spider-man made a mental note to thank him for that later.

"Oh, y'know. Same old same old. I mean, I get worried when someone's NOT trying to kill me. On that note, you wanna help me out, now that you're here?!" He spoke through clenched teeth.

Classic Spider-man. Despite the peril, his sarcastic nature still managed to surface.

"You got it, babe." Deadpool hummed. He tactically waited until he heard another blast before taking action. Utilizing the beam's cool-down timer to his advantage, Deadpool then pushed the car backwards off of himself. He knelt down and draped the dazed hero over his shoulder before ducking into a far off alley, just out of sight. He dropped Spider-man to the floor and propped him up against the wall. "'Kay. So, I'm gonna go deal with this. You sit and stay beautiful."

"Wai... Hold on a min--!"

Deadpool then walked back into the street, turned, and began walking calmly against the current of the bustling, panicked crowd which rushed past him on either side. His eyes scoured the buildings, searching for a likely sniper's nest.

Eventually, he spotted it. A glint from one of the skyscraper rooftops. Unholstering his guns, He took aim and prepared to fire back.

"Round two, FIGHT!"

"Deadpool, wait!" Spider-man shouted, grabbing Deadpool by the shoulders and pulling him back into the alley. "You can't just shoot here, it's too risky-- too many innocents!"

"Got any better ideas, McGruff the crime Spider?"

"I'm the target-- I'll lour him somewhere less populated, but I need you help the civilians 'till the police arrive."

"You serious? You don't need to play hero all the time, you know!"

"Yes, I do." He voiced sternly."

"You look about ready to keel over any minute now. 'An you're still gonna--"

"Yes, I am!"

"Here's another idea-- maybe if we wish hard enough, he'll go away." He replied curtly.

"Wade!"

"For the love of-- fine! But we'll need a rendezvous point so we can regroup in a few hours."

"Deal! Know anywhere I can keep a low profile?"

Deadpool thought briefly, an internal conversation evident.

He mumbled something along the lines of 'you wanna go where everybody knows your name', then raised a finger triumphantly.

"Cheers!" He exclaimed. "I mean, yes! I know just the place!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I just got back to school. The 'every other day' system's gonna have to make way for an update each weekend. Just know I have no plans of dropping this.
> 
> Promise. I'm a man of my word, or, whatever.


	6. The Kings of the Canopy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ship just got real.

Deadpool led the way to the bar with Spider-man following closely behind, albeit growing more uneasy with each step. He wasn't nearly as well received in these parts as Deadpool was. Spider-man was technically a vigilante at most, though in hindsight, he was still on the better end of the law.

As Deadpool pushed open the heavy wooden pub doors; Spider-man sheepishly poked his head out from behind the large man. The bar patrons turned their heads simultaneously, and glared in his direction. He offered a weak smile and waved with only his fingers.

"I don't think they like me." Spider-man whispered cautiously, still eyeing his surroundings.

"Relax, I'll handle it." Deadpool responded calmly. "Yo peeps, listen up. I know this place has that whole 'no cops and the like' vibe going for it, but my friend here just needs a place to hide out for a while. He's not going to see or hear anything, you guys are gonna do us the same courtesy, and everybody's happy. Kapeesh?"

There came no clear reply. They instead began to whisper unintelligibly amongst themselves. Spider-man wanted to assume that that meant they were returning to their idle chatter, but many never tore their eyes from him. Some simply pointed in his direction.

It may have been in part because his arm was bleeding profusely, though he wouldn't put it past this place to have history in the business of organ harvesting. In other words, this lot definitely didn't seem the squeamish type.

Something just wasn't right, and he certainly felt no safer here. Deadpool simply smiled and pointed lightheartedly with his fingers.

"I knew you'd understand, fellas. C'mon, dude."

He figured if he just this once followed the merc's lead of obliviousness, maybe he'd be able to blend in well enough to avoid confrontation. Didn't work back when he was in high school, but hey, there was a first for everything.

Deadpool moved towards the bar stools and pulled one out for Spider-man, allowing him access. The gesture was pointless, considering stools are already easily accessible, but chivalry was chivalry. Spiderman shrugged and sat, Deadpool taking a seat next to him. He rang the server’s bell on the counter.

"I'm pretty sure Sheila should have bandages or something in the back. Who knows, couple 'uh weeks an' you might be back playin' little league."

"Sheila?"

"Barmaid. I dunno, you'll probably get along. An' hell, since we're here we may as well order something. After a day like yours, I'd say we deserve a drink, yeah?" Deadpool grinned.

"Hmm."

Spider-man could still feel the unremitting leering behind him as eyes bore into his back.

Naturally, he wasn't feeling particularly settled, but being with Deadpool had made him feel a lot more secure.

He was beginning to realize just how much he genuinely liked spending time with him. Though uncertainty remained regarding exactly what that meant, he knew he wanted to voice it somehow.

If only he could find the words.

"So... Deadpool, I, uh..." Spider-man refused to lift his head.

"You hanging in there, web head? I take it that brush with death isn't sitting too well?"

"...Um, listen, Wade. About earlier..."

"Crap. Is it something I said?"

"What? No! Or... I dunno. I just--"

"Well if it isn't my best customer. And would you look at that. He's brought a guest." Sheila winked, walking in from the back room. She beamed a radiant smile at Spider-man and outstretched a welcoming hand.

It stung to lift his arm, but he had been raised better than to refuse a greeting. He reciprocated uncertainly, though returned her grip to the best of his ability.

"Name's Sheila. Who'd 'uh thought our humble Wade was pals with a celebrity; Spider-man of all people. Wow! Kinda wish I'd done my hair up all nice." Sheila began fluffing at her hair jokingly.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, Sheila, you wouldn't happen to have a Band-Aid or something we could use to patch up my friend here, would you?"

"What, y'mean fer' that paper cut? We get folk comin' through here with half the limbs you got, sugar. Wade included, on two separate occasions. I'd say ya ain't much worse for wear."

Spider-man shuddered. He guessed there was an interesting story to be told there. He also figured the less he knew about that story, the better.

"Mostly, I think it'd be a real shame if he got your nice floors all bloody. More so than usual, that is. Me, I think he's bein' a bit of a wuss, but... What I wouldn't do for love, amirite?"

Deadpool elbowed Spider-man playfully. He stifled his pained groan in hopes of preserving what was left of his dignity.

"Well, I suppose I'll grab some bandages and be right back. You two enjoy some alone time." Sheila turned gracefully and walked towards the room behind the counter. The door cracked open only slightly, allowing her to slip inside.

A pause.

"What'd she mean by that?" Spider-man asked, perplexed.

"Beats me. But, um, hey, so I just had a thought." Deadpool interjected, not permitting silence to fall over the two.

"How many people do we know with laser fetishes. Like 'lasers built into their palms fetish' territory."

"Deadpool, are you by any chance about to suggest that Iron Man is trying to kill me."

"The man is a reverse Transformer honestly I wouldn't put anything past him. I think maybe I should take him off of my Christmas card list just in case."

Spider-man allowed himself to laugh without restraint. He could never tell if this guy was being serious or not. He wasn't sure he wanted it any other way.

"You really don't think Iron man's got anything better to do in his spare time than harass me?"

"If I had lasers in my arms I might've done the same thing. Come on, you know your inner man-child digs the lasers."

"If, hypothetically, I DID have lasers in my arms, I'd probably do something far more productive. Like harness the energy and cook several hotdogs at once."

"Wow. Now we're even finishing each other's delusions." Deadpool said wistfully.

Both men were coaxed out of conversation as the door creaked open once again, Sheila stepping outside with a first aid kit in hand.

"Well, we have some 'uh these boring ol' bandages for ya, or some of these cute dinosaur pattern Band-Aids. Your choice, hun." She teased, laying the gauze on the counter.

"Sweet. Thanks, Sheils." Deadpool said, unrolling the gauze.

"Ah, thank you." Spider-man murmured.

Without hesitation, Deadpool gingerly took Spider-man's injured arm into his hands and went to work trying to stop the bleeding.

"Geez. Kinda grabby, aren't you? What, were you really that worried about me?" Spider-man cracked a half smile.

"Ah, shut yer' yap. Now try to hold still, would ya? This is sensitive business."

"Yeah, bite me."

Sheila giggled softly. It was the giggle of someone who knew something they shouldn't.

“You know, this one's told me an awful lot about’chya. Almost feel like I know ya myself.” She mused.

Spider-man’s guard lowered long enough for curiosity seep through.

"Whoa. Wait. About me?"

He noticed that Deadpool had tensed a great deal.

“Heh heh… Uh, actually Sheila, we’re still here on business, so—“ Deadpool tried.

Could it be? For once, was the shoe on the other foot? Deadpool always seemed to get off on making other people feel uncomfortable. Spider-man had gotten that treatment first hand on many separate occasions. He felt that a bit of well-meaning payback banter couldn’t hurt, and pried further.

“Hold up. He talks about me? You been talking about me, D.P.?" Deadpool glared daggers into Spider-man's eyes. Spider-man smiled brightly through his mask in response. "Well, nice things, I hope. If I find out you’ve been talking smack behind my back, so help me. I got J.J. Doing a thorough enough job of that already.”

“Oh, heavens, no. This one only ever speaks the world of you. He talks like the sun shone outta your ass. I reckon—“

"Ah, cut that out, Sheila." Deadpool implored. "Shouldn't you be serving drinks, or something?"

"Hey, hey. I promised you wine, remember? I wasn't expecting ya, but there should be a bottle or two in the truck out back. Go grab it for me, would ya sugar?"

"Uh..." The two men exchanged uncertain glances. Had Deadpool finally noticed the atmosphere was off?

"You know what. That sounds like a great idea. I'll go do that." He said, a tinge of discomfiture on his voice. He hastily finished bandaging Spider-man's arm and stood, using both hands on the counter to propel himself upwards. "I'll... I'll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, precious." Deadpool flicked Spider-man on the forehead before leaving.

What was that all about? Deadpool certainly seemed to leave in a hurry.

Nevertheless, Spider-man silently cursed Deadpool for leaving him alone in such undeniably shady territory. Sheila simply continued staring, her smile unwavering. Uncomfortable, Spider-man spoke.

"So, um... In the mean while, you think you could get me a drink of water, please? Y’know, just in case he gets lost out there-- it could be a while." He joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Sure thing," Sheila spoke as she prepared a cup. "You know, since he's been coming in here, you've been all he talks about. Well, next to food. You're a close second. It's cute, really. He's not much of a looker, but a sweetheart for sure." She placed the drink in front of him.

He coughed uncomfortably and offered a small nod before lifting his mask slightly to take a sip.

Spider-man assumed they'd all simply been having a grand time of messing with Deadpool. However, considering he was no longer in the room... This was serious?

"He's, um... he's not a bad guy." Spider-man confessed.

He was no longer sure how to treat the situation. Now wasn't a good time to think on this. He opted to force his thoughts aside. After a moment, Sheila continued.

"He's real useful, too. Errands, people, info. Always willing to help out little ol’ Sheila. Not so much recently, though…" She mumbled. "And I'm thinkin' you're the reason."

Spider-man listened silently. He thought about everything the merc had gone out of his way to do over the past few days. Then this meant that his entire involvement in the situation had surrounded around Deadpool not wanting to see him get hurt?

That was... well, sweet of him.

The thought of it all having been for his sake caused a heavy blush to spread over Spider-man's cheeks. He felt his heart begin to swell.

His face started burning and his head was swimming wildly.

Actually, his vision was fading, too. He hadn't realized it, but while he was lost in his thoughts, all of the other bar patrons had left. He couldn't find it in himself to worry, though. He simply sat and struggled to focus.

"Well, looks like that concoction works after all." Sheila said as her smile died. "Don't take this personally, hon, but... We really need you out of the picture."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone here's lying.
> 
> And I'm gonna find out who.


	7. Beasts of Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where does your loyalty lie, Deadpool?"

Deadpool definitely welcomed having a temporary out from that conversation. He felt like he musta' reverted into third grade first crush territory, and frankly it was putting a damper on his gruff, impenetrable exterior.

It was a damn good thing Spider-man probably wouldn't take any of that 'emotional hoopla' too seriously.

A bottle of authentic chardonnay in hand, he made his way back to the front entrance, and-- actually, how could Sheila afford such expensive wine on the salary of a barmaid? Deadpool shrugged it off. Not like he enjoyed having folk questioning whether or not his blood money was blood money. He continued into the now desolate pub.

The hell?

His eyes assessed the room's state. Half empty beer mugs littered the tables. No signs of a struggle were evident; though it was clear everyone musta' up and left in a hurry.

His mind settled on the only three possibilities.

Either it was his birthday and everyone was fixing to jump out and surprise him, Spider-man had stolen his clique and taken the party elsewhere, or there was trouble brewing.

Deadpool's hand rested near his holsters in the event any of the above came into play.

The pub was now silent enough to hear a pin drop. This made the muffled noises coming from the pub's back room all the more audible.

He jumped the bar counter and curled his fingers around the door knob. Without hesitating, he flung the door open and drew his gun.

"Glad you could finally make it." Sheila hummed, unflinching.

"Hi, Wade." A semi-conscious Spider-man said irritably. "This sort of thing always happen when you introduce people to your friends?" He sighed, and slowly raised his hand which strained against the handcuff keeping him bound to the radiator.

He sat on the floor with his chin propped up with his free hand. He looked like a kid sent to time out.

"You hush." Sheila spat.

A silence hung in the room. The room which was strangely much larger on the inside than it looked from the outside. There were also far more blueprints adorning the walls than one would have guessed necessary for a pub.

"So... I see you two are getting along nicely, but uh... this is a bit heavy for a first meeting, isn't it?" Deadpool said, indiscernible emotion in his voice.

He dropped the bottle of wine with a thud. His gun never lowered from Sheila's forehead.

"Oh, this party's just getting started."

"So it WAS a party. Called it."

"While we're still young, people." Spider-man intervened. "If we could get these shenanigans over with sooner than later, that'd be great.

"You're absolutely right." Sheila reached into one of the pockets on her apron and pulled out some sort of high powered energy pistol. She then pointed it at Spider-man, her eyes never leaving Deadpool.

"Not another move." Deadpool growled. "So I take it you're the one who made the hire, then. Fantastic. Well, it's been nice knowing you, Sheila, If that is your real name. But I've got a promise to keep."

"Aren't you even going to ask me why I did it?"

"Hadn't planned on it."

"Actually, I'm mildly curious to know why I've been handcuffed to a radiator. I'm also wondering where your accent went just now."

"Pipe down, hero." Sheila hissed. "You see, Deadpool. This little bug has been a thorn in my side for quite a while now. I suppose I don't look it, but I'm one of the most influential people in this city. I send my underlings out to do simple jobs. Robbing, stealing, 'sweeping'. In exchange, I provide weapons to those who do right by me. Hell, that gun of yours is probably one I helped manufacture. This one here's a new model; highly effective, as I'm sure you've noticed. The Web-Slinger, however, has been landing my men in prison. Constantly." Her soft expression rotted away to reveal pure hatred. "Really slows business, you know? Of course you do. I know what line of work you're in. This affects you too, darlin'. So you must see why this one's worth more to us underdogs dead than alive. You should be helping me, really."

"Actually, I like him better alive. It's a good look on him."

"Do I get a say in this?" Spider-man chimed, feeling more alert as the drug began to leave his system.

"Hush, Web-Head. The big kids are talking," Deadpool belittled.

"I'm not here to fight you, Deadpool. Not unless I have to. Instead, I'd like to offer you a job with me. Your market would triple. I feel we could benefit greatly from helping one another."

"Tempting, but freelance is just how I operate. I'm not interested."

"Unfortunate. This one's really not worth it in the grand scheme of things. If anything, he's holding you and your talent back. Anyone can see that."

Deadpool flinched slightly. He knew Spidey didn't approve of his work. He wouldn't actually be willing to compromise the merc business for the sake of the wall-crawler, would he? He couldn't. There was nothing else waiting for him.

Nothing, except for the next hit and empty praises. He shook his head.

"This entire time... you've had me under your thumb, haven't you. The reason you hired me for the hit-- you counted on me being able to get closer to him than you could and then unknowingly bringing him right to you. Smooth, Sheila. Honestly, I kinda like you. Unfortunately, I really hate bein' toyed with." He cocked his gun forebodingly.

"Deadpool, don't!" Spider-man shouted straining against his bonds. "Don't do this, Wade." He pleaded.

"Would you just sit there and look pretty while I deal with this? 'Cause it just got personal."

"Wade, seriously. Back in your apartment-- I meant what I said. If you kill her, I'll have no choice but to send a warrant out for your arrest and believe me, that's the last thing I want to come out of all of this."

"And I promised YOU that the fucker responsible for all of this would end up on the wrong end of my gun and now here we are. Funny how that works out, huh?"

"Just, please... don't make me do that to you, Wade. Let's not... Well, let's not let this end here, alright?"

Deadpool's aim faltered slightly, but only for a moment. What 'this' was he talking about? What was there between them to end? Furthering this one-sided adoration was the last thing Deadpool needed.

In this case, doing the 'right thing' might be completely fruitless.

"See that? He's throwing you off of your game, and you can't pay your bills in happy ideals." Sheila scoffed.

"As if you haven't heard this 'good will' speech a hundred times before. Am I wrong? This little nuisance is just wasting our time with those empty promises." Deadpool's grip on his gun tightened painfully. She wasn't wrong. "Where does your loyalty lie, Deadpool? You know there's no point in agreeing to anything he says if you yourself don't believe it."

"Nothing is that black and white. He may have the rep of an anti-hero but he's still more hero than anti."

"That's some big talk, considering that if he pulls that trigger you'll probably completely change your tone, huh? Maybe you'll scream, and call him a monster, and lil' Wade will have to pretend he's not heart-broken." Sheila's voice was flooded with contempt.

Spider-man raised an eyebrow.

"...Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m kinda sensing a personal story here. You'll have to pardon me if I'm digging up some proverbial bag o' bones, but--"

"You know, I've heard more than enough out of you." Sheila fumed, threatening to drive the end of her pistol into Spider-man's skull.

"Don't you dare lay a fucking hand on him." Deadpool hissed, his trigger finger growing impatient.

Spider-man gritted his teeth, but pressed on. "Alright, listen... I get that this is a decision only you can make, Wade. I understand that, but--" He started.

"Seriously? You're really willing to put your life in jeopardy just to save hers?" Deadpool's composure was slipping rapidly.

"There's always another way. I can promise you that."

Ugh. Deadpool's head was getting way too noisy. He was torn between saving Spidey and having him hate his guts for killing, making a ton of cash, or...

Sheila chuckled harshly.

"Ah, these 'heroes' and their wacky belief system. Ironically, they'd all be out of a job without people like you and me shaking things up. Give it a week and you two will be back at each other's throats because that's what nature demands."

"Wade is many things, but he is NOT my enemy."

"If you're saying you'd forgive him even if he splattered me on the walls, what's stopping him from pulling the trigger?"

"Would I forgive him? Yes. Would I ever trust him again? No. Would we ever be able to mend this relationship...?" He trailed off, eyes lowering to the floor.

"I'll answer that for you. No. And there you have it, Deadpool. I think we've heard all we need, so--"

"Oh, would you both just put a cork in it, for fucksake!? As if I haven't got enough morality-questioning voices constantly buzzin' around in my skull. As a matter of fact, right now they're suggesting I shoot you both and go for Chipotle. You have any idea how tempting that sounds? But, whatever, I made my decision long before any of us got here."

"And that is?" Sheila asked impatiently.

"...You're right, Sheila. I have heard the fucking 'be a good guy' speech a hundred fucking times."

"Wade..." Spider-man whispered delicately, sadness creeping into his voice.

"Who knew that after a hundred and one it would start sinking in. Sorry, but you're just gonna hafta find yourself another patsy."

Spider-man noticeably relaxed.

"Was the fake-out just then really necessary? I feel like I was almost voted off of the island or something."

"I had two beautiful ladies in front of me, but only one rose. Sue me."

"As if we really needed any more suspense in this situation."

"You can calm down, Mother Theresa. I told you I had this under control, didn't I? Your life is safe in my hands."

"Oh, gee. Well in that case, at least I'll leave a beautiful corpse. Or a charming puddle on the ground, considering the size of the gun to my head."

"You'd be the best looking puddle this side of New York. Which is saying a lot, all things considered. I mean, heck, if the whole 'amazing spider' gig doesn't work out, 'amorphous puddle' might be a welcome change."

"That's unsurprisingly very unwelcome at this point in my career."

"You could be my side kick. The Pool and the Puddle. Just rolls off the tongue."

"Well, excuse you! Why the hell do I have to be the side kick? Me as a puddle would probably still be way higher selling than--"

"Good lord." Sheila huffed. "I take it back; you two were made for one another. Even so, I can tell you right now, you'll regret this. Both of you might end up dead, but only one of you will stay dead. I was only trying to avoid prolonging the inevitable." She shrugged, lowering her pistol. "It absolutely breaks my heart, watching time repeat itself. Oh, well. Seeing as it doesn't look like there's a deal to be made here, I suppose I should be taking my leave."

"Not so fast!" They spoke in unison.

"You've got a date with the inside of a SHIELD prison!"

"I've gotta kill you for making me feel feelings!"

"Sorry, boys. Unfortunately, I can't stick around this joint much longer. In the next hour, I'll be the next city over with a new name and a new face. I will still, however, have eyes and ears everywhere." She whispered. "Anyways. Maybe this time I'll try a British façade on for size. The whole 'Southern bell' routine was getting a bit old." She slowly raised her gun, and this time took aim at the wine bottle lying on the ground. "But first, a parting gift. I promised you wine, remember?" Her lips curled into a smile as she shot the bottle, a fiery beam causing shards of glass to explode over the room. The flammable liquid spread the fire at an alarming rate, illuminating the room in an orange glow.

Before Deadpool could react, Sheila punched the gun from his hand and sweep-kicked his legs out from underneath him with absurd speed, causing him to fall backwards. She then pressed a heel into his neck before speaking.

"Figure I might as well get some insurance money out of this place before I move on. You know how it is. And a word of advice; There's no place for people like us in regular society. Not after the things we've done. Trust me, I know. The only reason I'm leaving him alive is so you can learn that the hard way."

She dusted herself off and calmly exited the burning building. Deadpool sat up, rubbing his neck.

"She's spry for an older gal, isn't she." Deadpool muttered.

"Wade!" Spider-man shouted.

"Oh, right. You, fire, suffocating. Got it."

"No, I mean-- She's getting away! You have to--" He began coughing painfully.

"Fuck that, I didn't go through all this shit just so you could burn to death. Sit tight, I'll be right back."

He ran through the growing flames to the bar's mini fridge and retrieved a bottle of water. He spotted his gun on the way back, and grabbed it as he rushed back to Spider-man's side.

"There's a bit too much fire here for a bottle of water to be very effective, dude." He wheezed.

"I'm gonna need to take off your mask." Deadpool declared.

"You... What?! Far be it for me to question your reasoning, but... I-- I don't--"

"Just trust me, damn it!"

Spider-man hesitated a moment, then nodded briskly.

"Alright. I trust you."

Deadpool hurriedly unscrewed the cap of the water bottle. He then placed a hand under Spider-man's chin and pulled off his mask with one swift motion. Without hesitation, Deadpool doused the mask in water.

"Hold it over your nose an' mouth; you'll inhale less smoke that way. I'm gonna try to shoot the cuffs, so I can't have you coughin' and wigglin' all over the place."

Spider-man laughed softly. “I guess you really did know a thing or two about survival."

"Actually, I learned this on Wikihow. They've got everything."

He giggled sweetly, only to break out into another coughing fit, causing pain to overtake his gentle features.

Sensing Deadpool's anxiousness, he smiled reassuringly, though his soft brown eyes were clouded and tired.

He complied with Deadpool's instructions, taking the mask with his free hand and shielding his nose. That was Deadpool's queue to go to work.

The tiny gap between the radiator, the chain, and Spider-man's hand was cutting it way too close. He steadied his aim and leveled his breathing, preparing to take the shot.

"Try not to miss. No pressure."

"No pressure no diamonds, sweetness. Now you might wanna hold your breath. Alright, on three-- one!"

He took the shot with expert precision.

The metal chain links shattered, signaling Spider-man's freedom.

He rose shakily to his feet, and Deadpool led him by the hand towards the pub's back exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can guarantee that the last chapter will be light and fluffy, fresh out of the oven and warm and buttery with a side of coffee or tea.
> 
> 'Kay I'm off to have breakfast later gents.


	8. Prize of the Dark

Upon escaping the pub, the two were enwreathed by the cover of night and greeted by the acrid back alleys once again.

Spider-man outstretched his arms and inhaled loudly. "Ah, fresh air! Or as fresh as it could be considering, y'know. New York."

"Yeah, well, maybe we shoulda’ just settled for the Canadian Rockies after all, huh?"

"Heh. Maybe." An uncomfortable silence surrounded the two. "This is definitely a first for me, y'know. Never in my 24 years of life did I think I'd ever get my ass so thoroughly handed to me by someone old enough to be my... Well, my aunt. Not one of my crowning moments to say the least."

"I'll bet." Deadpool hummed, his mind clearly elsewhere. Spider-man scratched the back of his head idly.

"I, uh... I guess you had to have been there. Ha ha."

Silence.

Well, there was no use beating around the bush anymore. Spider-man cleared his throat.

"So, my mask is all soggy. That's gonna be a bitch to wear home." He fumbled with the mask absentmindedly in his hands.

"Uh-huh." Deadpool replied.

"...Hey, speaking of the mask I'm not currently wearing--"

"Relax, I get it. You're a cute brunette. That info wouldn't even sell for much without a name to go with--"

"Parker. Peter Parker." He smiled, offering an inviting handshake. Deadpool gaped in awe, and then slapped a palm into his forehead.

"...Yeah. Wade Wilson. Now I'm gonna pretend I didn't just hear that." He huffed, returning the handshake.

The two made meaningful eye contact which lasted for what felt like several minutes. Spider-man was the first to break the silence between them.

"You did good work back there." He spoke kindheartedly.

Deadpool narrowed his eyes and withdrew his hand.

"Yeah." He pulled away and turned, not wanting to face the person in front of him. Spider-man opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by the sound of sirens-- likely fire trucks-- growing in the distance. "Ah, sounds like the feds have already caught wind of our flammable beacon here. That's my signal to skedaddle; not like this'd be the first time you'd inadvertently gotten me arrested." Wade forced his playful facade to the surface. "It's been fun, dude. Maybe I'll catch you on the flip side. Take care, or, don't. Whatever comes first, I guess." He spoke hurriedly, preparing leave with his tail between his legs.

"Wade, wait!" Peter shouted more urgently than he had intended. Wade squeezed his eyes shut, but did as instructed. "I, uh... I don't know what might’ve happened if you hadn't shown up, and done what you did. You very well may have saved my life here, y'know?" His voice was hoarse, almost a whisper.

"I get it, Spidey."

"I really do appreciate all of this. Honestly, I misjudged you. And I'm so sorry about that. I really feel I treated you unfairly without ever actually getting to know you, and..."

Wade scoffed at the misplaced adulation.

“I kill people for money. If you understand that, then you basically know what I'm about.”

“Oh, please; I’ve gotten to know my minute rice better than I know you. I’m sure there’s far more to you than, um... your line of business.”

“Not to mention I betrayed you without even knowing it. Shouldn’t I be the one apologizing? I mean, I’m not going to, but even I know we’ve got this reversed.”

“What do you mean? You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

Deadpool's heart rate was steadily increasing. He'd always had a soft spot for the hero's naiveté. At times it was overwhelming. He wasn't sure how to deal with the timid tone in his voice, or the gentle content of his words. He didn't want to believe it. He wanted him to stop talking so he wouldn't have to think about it.

"I really think you were the hero today. I'm proud of you." Peter laughed nervously, smiling warmly with one arm clutching the other limply.

Deadpool's blood began to boil. He was worn out, and the adoration he’d spent so long convincing himself would never be anything but one-sided translated into acrimony.

"I said that's enough already! Thanks!" He growled callously as he turned to face the other man once again. Spider-man flinched, but pressed further.

"Okay, okay! I just... Look, all I'm trying to say is thank--"

"I would have killed her," Deadpool stated bluntly.

"...I know you would have."

"But I didn't."

"You didn't."

"I should have. This probably isn't over, y'know? If I had just pulled the damn trigger she'd no longer be a threat, you'd probably hate me enough to keep a safe distance, an' everything could go back to being the way it should be. Instead, I landed us back at square one an' left you hanging in the balance. I let her walk away just so that you'd be a bit proud of me for five minutes."

"...It's been at least ten minutes so far."

"Fuckin' right." Deadpool breathed, disinclined to meet Peter's eyes. "Y'know, I'm really beginning to question your acumen."

"Mhm, same here," Peter joked. "And I think I'm okay with it."

Silence.

For a split second, neither man dared speak. Peter allowed his hands to sit listlessly at his sides as he slowly began to move towards the merc, closing the gap between them.

His gaze still lowered, he gently rested his forehead on Deadpool's chest and exhaled warmly.

"Mnnnf... What a week. I'm really tired, Wade. Still proud, but tired. I'll probably still be proud after a nap, but..."

He raised his head high enough to bury his face into the crook of Wade's neck, nuzzling against him softly. Wade’s heart panged sharply.  
Oh, crap. This wasn’t at all how he saw this scene playing out.

“Peter, don’t…” He admonished, though his voice caught in his throat.

"I think you made the right decision. So don't worry about it, alright? At least... not now."

Wade silently reprimanded himself for savouring the intimacy. His thoughts hopelessly addled by the hero, he slumped forwards without making a sound. Acquiescently, he raised his hands and placed them on the small of Peter's back. Soon, his demeanor began to crumble, and he hugged Peter closer, squeezing him tightly.

Peter reciprocated the embrace loosely with his good arm and clutched to the fabric of Wade’s suit. He lingered momentarily before Wade began to abnegate solemnly, a firm grip on Peter's shoulders.

“Everything she said was true, dude. ‘Specially all the stuff about me probably getting you killed and whatnot.”

“Yeah, big whoop. Probable death’s already in my job description.”

“Still, though! I--" Wade shook his head. "Geez, Pete, why do you have to be so fuckin' stubborn? Listen, I should probably go deal with this an' like—leave town for a while.”

“But why? I thought that--”

“I may have kicked Sheila’s immediate proposal to the curb, but that doesn’t mean I disagree with her, either. If it’s a tossup between pretending you’re not still in danger an' doing what I’ve gotta do to keep you alive, I choose the latter. If you hate me for it, then that’d probably be best in the long run. Honestly, I’m not a fan of when I have to be the ‘responsible adult’, but…”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, but refused to break eye contact. He stared intently, an unclear expression plastered onto his face.

“And I still get no say in any of this whatsoever?”

“Not really, no.”

"I see. Well, here’s another idea anyways. Just hear me out." He cupped Wade's cheeks into his hands and pulled his face closer.

"First off, you're going to walk me home. I mean my place may be way smaller than yours but at least you can see my floor. Next, we'll order takeout and watch 'The Fugitive'. Following this, I will proceed to pass out for a few hours and you're gonna stick around so you can make me breakfast in the morning, 'kay?" He tilted his head. "What was it with you again? Pancakes? Make those." Peter flashed a toothy grin.

Wade simply stared, wide eyed.

"Alright. Either you've been exposed to too much car exhaust or I'VE been exposed to too much car exhaust. Either way, I'm not..." He sighed.

"You're sure you don't want me to... ‘fix’ this, Pete?”

"I'd really rather if you didn't. It's gonna be alright, Wade-- we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. If you actually felt like making something up to me..."

He leveled his hands to Wade's chin and began rolling his mask up past his nose.

Then, he stretched his back in order to better match Wade's height, and planted a quick, tender kiss on the corner of Wade's mouth before tugging his mask the rest of the way off.

"Do me a solid and lemme wear your mask for a while, alright? Not all of us have the luxury of a public identity." He smiled mordantly, though his tired eyes, unkempt hair and five o'clock shadow suggested he wasn't actually in any mood to take no for an answer.

"I really... Shouldn't." Wade mumbled as he ran his fingers through Peter's soft brown hair. Peter eased into the touch and shut his eyes, exhaling softly.

"Ah, fuck... You're like the cute button New York never wanted sewed on." Wade cooed.

"So... I take it we're good?"

Wade grunted in protest, but rested his head snugly on the hero's shoulder. His mind went blank, and only then did he realize he’d been smiling. Why the hell was he resisting again?

"I, uh... Yeah, whatever. Deal."

"I knew I could count on you, man." Peter yawned, lacing his fingers between Wade's and allowing his body to fall limp. Wade soon found it in himself to ask the question that had been haunting him unrelentingly.

“You think you’ll live long enough to regret this, kid?” He muttered, albeit terrified to hear the answer. He immediately regretted having said anything, though the silence he was met with was far more unnerving than any response he’d imagined.

“Um… Pete?”

The exhausted hero in his arms only hummed serenely, already fast asleep. Wade figured that he'd probably be back to his senses come daylight, though he came to realize that daylight was only a few hours away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended for this to be the last chapter, but... Ya know what. We need more TLC.
> 
> That, and the fact that there were more one-liners and pet names I wanted to squeeze in here. Don't judge me.


	9. Dazed and Confused

"Deja vu," Peter mumbled as his eyes squinted open. He awoke to find himself nestled into his couch, laying on his side with his legs pulled into his chest. Slowly, he willed himself into a sitting position and attempted to rub the tiredness out of his eyes.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, buttercup." Came the voice from the opposite end of the couch. Peter flinched, and pivoted his torso to find Wade hadn't left. He sat nonchalantly with his legs crossed as he skimmed through what appeared to be one of Peter's textbooks. Wade wore his mask once again, pulled up just above his nose. He'd apparently helped himself to the Pepsi Peter'd been saving in his fridge. Peter was willing to let that slide, just this once. "So... you feelin' okay?"

"Ah... yeah, totally! My arm's even started to heal up nicely." Peter began rolling his shoulder in circles for emphasis. "Fancy that! Guess all I needed was a good night of sleep."

"...Yeah. Fancy that." Wade echoed as he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been starting to worry that the hero's puny mortal body wouldn't have been able to take the punishment.

"That aside, uh... You're still here," Peter exclaimed.

"Shouldn't I be?"

"I just half expected you'd have taken off, is all." Wade wasn't sure whether Peter sounded relieved or distraught at that revelation.

"So... S'that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Huh? No, no! I-- I'm glad you stuck around."

Wade began drumming his fingers rhythmically against the cover of the textbook.

"Well, I did plan to hightail it, but-- when we got inside, I just..." Wade shook his head in disappointment. "For the love of god, Pete, lemme take you to a fricken' IKEA sometime. I've seen gerbils with better living conditions than this. Larger, too. Who knew that Manhattan's most prolific serial hero was livin' a hard knock life like the rest of us. Unjust, I tells ya-- simply unjust." Wade didn't once look up from the textbook.

Peter found this strange, though he decided not to dwell on it. Wade appeared distant, though he seemed to have reverted back to one of the many rambunctious facades Peter had come to know and... Well, appreciate.

Peter exhaled through his nose.

"Good to see that you're back to your peppy ol' self, pal." He hummed as he meandered towards the other end of the couch. Wade visibly tensed in response, though Peter only snatched the Pepsi can out of his hand and took a lengthy sip before continuing. "You know what they say; crime doesn't pay, but neither do miraculous superpowers-- let alone in a city with residents who'll hate you at the drop of a hat." He shrugged. "On another note... did I actually remember to give you my address last night?"

Wade directed his attention to the window.

"Yeah. Or, at least that's the lie I was gonna tell you."

"...So how DID we get here?"

"Well, I wanted to carry you bridal style but we had to settle for piggybacking it." Peter clearly wasn't amused by Wade's ambiguity, be it jokingly or not. "Let's just say I have sources, alright? I figured it woulda' been a shame to wake you, though I gotta say, coppin' a feel just isn't as much fun when you're in self-induced-coma-mode."

Peter squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Go figure. Let's discuss the riveting details another time. I just woke up and you're already moving a mile a minute."

Wade's grin began to fade and he finally looked Peter in the eye.

"Hey... just out of curiosity. Exactly how much of last night DO you remember?" He asked reluctantly.

Wade hoped it wasn't obvious that he'd spent many uncertain hours pacing Peter's apartment and losing countless arguments with himself. Questions swirled through his mind, not allowing him even a moment of peace.

Just how out of it had Peter been? Maybe he'd forgotten the moment the two shared. Maybe he'd pretend to forget out of sheer shame and embarrassment. Wade wouldn't have doubted either development, but he still needed to know where they stood in this... relationship?

Peter seemed taken aback by the question, though he lowered his head in thought as if to find an answer.

"Let's see here," He placed the Pepsi can neatly onto the ground. "We went to a pub, and we were 'ambushed'. The bartender said something along the lines of 'Come to the dark side,' to which you replied, 'Fuck nah,' to which she made then pressing argument of 'Well fuck this then, hope you guys aren't allergic to fire'-- pardon my French. Anyway, then she tried to tan our hides but you were all 'Follow my non-flammable pants to freedom!', and... In short, you saved my ass. That about sum it up?"

"Pfft. Yeah right, smart-alack." Wade snickered. "Um-- staying on topic; think a little farther. What happened after that?"

Peter's eyes widened.

"After...? You mean-- oh..." He pursed his lips and flushed a deep shade of red. Creases appeared between his eyebrows as he fought to find the words. "We, um..." He grew quiet, and Wade snickered.

"Can't remember? Me either. Don't worry about it, puddin'." He waved an arm dismissively, and tossed the textbook lazily to the side.

As far as Wade was concerned, this confirmed it. It had only been a regrettable one-sided heat of the moment pity cuddle from a mostly inebriated—

Peter placed his hands on Wade's forearms and pulled himself closer, a look of determination on his face. He smoothly wrapped his arms around Wade's neck and pulled him into a close embrace. Peter's voice lowered into a sultry whisper.

"...We hugged... kinda like this. And then..."

Wade gritted his teeth and struggled out of Peter's hold, grasping him by the wrists. Peter knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. Not allowing Peter enough time to speak, Wade lunged forwards and pressed his chapped lips onto Peter's in a rough and passionate kiss, finally venting his pent up frustration. His anxiety and doubt seemed to completely melt away.

Slowly, he loosened his grip on Peter's wrists and instead caressed the back of his neck. Peter shut his eyes and moaned softly as the kiss deepened. He languidly began to part, his face hovering only inches from Wade's.

"...And then I said 'thank you'," Peter panted wistfully. "What's all that 'heat of the moment' crap about?"

"Whoops. Did I say that out loud?" Wade rasped.

"That you did." Peter grinned, resting their foreheads together. "You greatly overestimate the allure of an alley. Really not the best place for romancing. If it had been raining and you'd been upside down, well... That would have be a whole other story."

"That's it. Looks like you're stuck with me, kid. Can't say I didn't give you an out."

"I don't need one."

"...Am I being Punked?"

Peter rolled his eyes as he leant backwards.

"No, loser. Granted, if you were being Punked I probably wouldn't tell you."

"Oh, goody. Guess that's a risk I'm just gonna have to take." Wade said, cradling Peter once again.

"Wait... what time is it? Damn, I think I might be late for work-- and didn't you promise to make me breakfast?"

"Uh, I don't know how to break it to you, man. That sun's going down, not coming up. As in, you slept all day."

"You're kidding me..." Peter groaned. "You know what? I caught the plague. Not the deadly kind, though, just the 48 hour plague. You can back me up on this, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Whatever you say, Spider-Malinger. For the record, 48 hour organ failure might be just a tad more believable."

"See that? We make a great team."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has been a long time in coming.
> 
> Thanks for stickin' around for the ride. Cheers.


End file.
